


Blushes Painted On Freckles

by jasperthewriter



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Ambulances, Blood, Fire, Injury, It's fluff!, M/M, With no angst, i havent actually started writing it yet, i think, maybe a little angst?, ok maybe some angst, we will see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 18:42:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11258703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasperthewriter/pseuds/jasperthewriter
Summary: The good ol' trope of meeting bc they were forced outside bc of an apartment fire.You can find me on tumblr @i-just-love-dorcas-meadows





	Blushes Painted On Freckles

**Simon**

Simon Snow does not go to sleep easily. Never has. Years of getting shoved off of beds in foster homes and the short stint of sleeping in doorways and on curbs have eliminated any chance Simon Snow has of sleeping easily. He cannot find sleep, tonight especially. He couldn't get that man out of his head. That man he had seen earlier today. The one with the long, dark hair. To be honest the whole boy was long and dark. Tall and lean, built like a runner or a diver, with none of the bulky muscles that so many had now. Simon had just recently come to terms with his bisexuality and still felt a bit of a pang when he found himself attracted to a man. 

This man, however, was worth it. 

Sighing, Simon flipped over and resigned himself to a night of tossing and turning and trying  _not_ to think about the boy. Christ, he didn't even know his name. God, it was so hot in his apartment. He sat up and peeled his tee shirt away from his sweaty chest and laid back down, resigned to get at least  _a little_ sleep before work tomorrow. 

It is at this exact moment that the fire alarm goes off. 

Simon sits bolt upright and immediately tries to scramble off the bed, but his legs are too tangled in his sheets and he falls, reaching out to grab the table by his bed, but he misses and smacks his head on the sharp edge of the wood. Swearing, he stands and stumbles out of his room and into the hall.

Belatedly, he realises that something is dripping into his face, and he touches his fingers to it then looks blearily at the dark red liquid staining his fingertips. The hallway with its peeling paint goes black and fuzzy on the edges and Simon tips forward, grabbing at the wall to support himself. He barely registers the figure turning the corner, and breaking into a run until he feels hands on his shoulders, turning him to face the stranger. And  _oh my god it's him it's tall, dark, and handsome._

"Thanks" and  _oh that face with a smirk on it is really really too much right now_. 

The smirk fades and a crease forms between his eyebrows as Simon tips forward, pressing his face into the taller mans shirt. That's when he notices the blood. That is also when Simon passes out. 

**Baz**

_This boy is going to be the actual death of me_. 

When Baz first noticed him, about a week ago, he was rushing through the door with a stack of boxes in his hands. Baz didn't even think he noticed him jump out of his way. 

If Baz had to pick one word to describe Simon Snow, it would be  _rushing._ He was always rushing from one place to the next. Even his hair was rushing. Rushing to get away from his head. He had an undercut, which shouldn't have been as hot as it was, being that the undercut was the epitome of generic straight boy-ness. Not that Baz was assuming anything. 

No, he really hoped this Simon Snow was Not Straight. He didn't think he was, either. He just  _felt_ like he wasn't. 

Anyway, anything that he had or had not been thinking about Simon Snow flew out of his head when he turned the corner and saw him holding onto the wall as if it was a door and he was a girl named Rose. Bazs' immediate concern was fire, burns, the fire alarm  _had_ just gone off after all. And to be honest, Snow seemed like the type of clumsy person that would accidentally set something on fire, late at night. 

Baz was lucky in that he had just gotten home from yet another late shift at the office, and was therefore still fully clothed in his suit. Snow was wearing boxers. And absolutely nothing else. If Bazs' brain had any function in it after that it was immediately purged by Snow calling him "tall, dark, and handsome". And then by the sight of blood seeping into Snows bronzy curls. 

Baz can carry Snow, no problem. He's really quite fit in between all the skin and bones. Their apartments are both on the second floor, so only two flights of stairs and Baz is home free. He'd have had an issue if they'd been any higher up, or if whatever had set off the alarm had been between them and the exit. But none of that happens, and Baz makes it to the pavement and heads off to find a paramedic. He knows that whatever Snow has done is probably not serious, but still, head wounds bleed a lot, and that can be very Not Good. He finds and ambulance and hands Snow off, making sure to stay close. 

It turns out he doesn't need stitches and the paramedic tells Baz to let him sleep, but not for too long, make sure he woke up at a reasonable time in the morning, and Baz is too tired to correct her that they aren't actually dating. 

"Oh", she says, turning back to Baz, "he might be a bit foggy when he wakes up, it's completely normal but if he forgets a lot or doesn't remember for more than two hours, head to the hospital."

And just like that, he has an armful of a half-naked Simon again and is looking for a bit of curb to sit on. 

He may or may not end up carrying Simon back up to his room. And hey! It's only because they were given the all-clear but Simon, for whatever reason, sleeps on. It's not like Basil has a key to Simons apartment. So he just takes him up to his and sets him up in the bed while resigning himself to a night spent on the chair in the corner making sure Simon didn't stop breathing or do anything that insane. 

**Simon**

Simon wakes up in an unfamiliar bed and his first thought is how nice it smells. His second thought is a brief comment on how that might have been the best sleep he has had. Ever. He tries to sit up and right about then is when he remembers everything. The memories coming back hit him with an almost physical force, and he grunts with the effort of keeping them in order and figuring out what  _exactly_ happened. He remembers pain, and then a fuzzy hallway. Arms, strong and warm. Feeling safe. A distinct smell of cedar and something else. He also vaguely remembers wearing only boxers while the person carrying him was wearing some kind of suit. 

In an instant, the body sitting in the armchair by the window is up and striding towards him. 

"How are you feeling?" 

Simon knows that he remembers this man from somewhere.  _Oh_ , he thinks, recognising that this bed must belong to whoever this is. 

"Hang on, are you my boyfriend?" That seems to throw the man off. 

"Um no. I'm Basi- Baz. Just Baz" 

"Ok then "just baz" if you aren't my boyfriend then can I propose something?"

"As long as it isn't an actual proposal" quips the tall man. Simon is really starting to enjoy this. Whatever this is. Talking. It's nice. 

"Hah no. Not right now anyway. Get coffee with me? Tomorrow or today or whenever" A faint blush stains his face, spreading across his nose and highlighting the numerous freckles dotting his face like constellations. 

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, why not?" Then Baz goes quiet, but Simon can see by the look in his eyes that he's thinking. 

"Baz?"

"I'm sorry, I was trying to think of something clever to say and I've totally spaced"

"Is that still a yes?" 

And who can resist the look of hope on Simons face? All shiny and new. Certainly not Baz. Not after all this. He deserves coffee. At least. 

"Yes"


End file.
